Working hard is hard

DSCN9319_1, originally uploaded by lilylord.

Been working like crazy (not a new thing I admit). Hard labor for the brain. The work itself is pretty rewarding - solving problems and making things that get produced (even if thrown away eventually or even instantly). But the intensity that I need to drum up to get things rolling well, is unnerving at times. I become accustomed to it, and feel uneasy when still. And I get scared. That if I stop I'll disappear and the drive will fade away and I'll become lazy and lose out on opportunities to experience the world in a particular way. Irrational yes. Fed by my own adrenaline fueled manic work activity, yes.

I'll come home after a late night and blast the music and be so revved up that I can hardly stand it. And perhaps a sad song comes up and the stockpile of tears that are stored are unleased. How many of us are there living like this out there? Sometimes I feel everyone - though I know that isn't true. Sometimes the road is completely clear, free of traffic for most of my drive home. And when driving on the dark lonely road I get swallowed up by my thoughts and feel oddly alone and empowered and giddy with the feelings of freedom that comes from doing and finishing and working hard.

I think of the intense activity that msot pioneers and new immigrants must go through to rise beyond their circumstances. It's such a huge part of the American identity/experience, or it's the one that I most identify with. Intense, driven and always on the move. Starting up over and over again. Looking forward never back.